


Breaking Up is Hard to Do (except for when it isn't)

by Xanoka



Series: Kiss Cam [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Kiss cam, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stiles Stilinski is not taking anymore nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanoka/pseuds/Xanoka
Summary: The break-up. Sequel to Kiss Cam. This is for Serena_SilverMoon, who requested Stiles breaking up with Kyle. Happy (belated) birthday and Merry Christmas! Oops. Sorry it's late.





	Breaking Up is Hard to Do (except for when it isn't)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serena_SilverMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena_SilverMoon/gifts).



 

The corridor they’ve chosen for this is dark and kind of muggy and, for real, he kind of wants this to just be _over_ so he can go back to Hot-And-Possibly-Single-Kiss-Cam-Guy.

 

Which maybe makes Stiles an awful person, because he and Kyle had been dating for _months_. He tries again to summon the appropriate feelings for a break up. Regret. Maybe remorse for hurt feelings. A desire to still be friends.

 

But looking at Kyle, still somehow managing to look apoplectic in the dim light, there’s just _nothing_.

 

He’s not going to miss Kyle, or want to see him after today. Not that he wants to _avoid_ him either, or anything. He just doesn’t _care_.

 

It’s whatever. Kyle is whatever. The relationship, he’s realizing, has been whatever.

 

Well no, he does care. It’s _annoying_. It’s annoying to realize he’s been dragging this out for months, and now it’s finally over, it’s like nothing had even happened. An blip on his radar. A footnote in his life. Except, one of those annoying ones a professor leaves, reminding you to check your sources.

 

It’s both depressing and liberating.

 

And Kyle keeps _talking_. Big surprise there, making noise without wanting or needing Stiles’ input. And, to be fair, if babbling were an Olympic sport, Stiles would be world champion, but he tries, you know, to give cues for the input of others. Or at least cares if whoever he’s talking at is listening.

 

Not for the first time he wonders if Kyle had ever really cared about what Stiles thought about anything he had to say. And that’s _annoying_. That’s always been annoying.

 

Holy crap, has he ever not been low-key annoyed with Kyle?

 

He contemplates this as Kyle continues to rant to himself about Stiles’ iniquity.

 

God, they’re breaking up and he’s just _bored._ And impatient. To go back outside to the fresh air. And football. (Meh.) And Hot Eyebrows Guy. (ufffuffu).

 

Crap. Kyle is looking at him expectantly. Right. He was supposed to have been listening.

 

“What was that?”

 

Kyle glowers and rolls his eyes. It’s possible he mutters “air head”, which, ouch, Stiles would totally care if anything about Kyle or his opinions mattered to him.

 

“I said what’s the deal with that guy? You’ve been sleeping with him?”

 

_Again?_

 

“Kyle, it’s not about Eyebrows!”

 

Except, wow, that was way too loud, exploding out of him, like a cork out of a bottle. A passing couple gives them a weird look.

 

“Then what _is_ it about?”

 

“I’m just _done_ , Kyle. We’re done. You don’t make me happy and, let’s be real, I don’t think I make you happy either, right?”

 

A normal person, of course, would see it as an olive branch. Less patronising than, _It’s not you_ , _it’s me_ and _We’re just not right for each other!_

 

Perhaps a normal person would nod in sad agreement, then they’d hug and be on their way.

 

But, apparently, Kyle was still an asshole.

 

“You’re not good enough for me,” he agreed, sneering.

 

“Wow, OK, then. Well, the game’s about to start soooo… I’ve got places to be.”

 

“What!” For the first time Kyle looks suitably horrified, though not, alas, over the demise of their relationship. “You’re not going back out there!”

 

“Uh, yes, I am.”

 

“They’re my tickets! I paid for them!”

 

“Yeah, as a birthday gift to _me_. You do know how gifts work, don’t you, Kyle?”

 

“But this is the biggest game of the season!”

 

“Well, you could totally go back to _my_ seats but - ”

 

There would be a whole audience of interested people, ready to gossip in their hearing and take pictures for posterity. And The Face That Launched A Thousand Tweets. Waiting for both of them. Where they’d have to sit next to each other. In close proximity. Together.

 

This seems to occur to Kyle too, because his expression sours, then he thrusts a hand out.

 

“Give me the tickets, Stilinski.”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m not asking. Give. Them. To. Me. Now.”

 

“Hell, no!”

 

“You don’t even _like_ football!”

 

Aha, so he _did_ know that, the selfish prick.

 

And as if it was even about the football. It was the _principle_ of the thing. And the glorious, glorious opportunity to test the waters with Mr. Hot Like Lava. Who might have been way out of his league, but probably-sister-maybe-friend-Laura had been pretty encouraging. And then there had been The Kiss.

 

Which, sure, as he’d stated, it had been chaste, but it had also birthed a storm of butterflies he hadn’t felt since the wondrous day he’d finally persuaded Lydia Martin to kiss him on the lips. May it live forever in memory.

 

So. Priorities.

 

“Still a hard no.”

 

And, sure, he had the phone number in his pocket, but he couldn’t just _leave_.

 

“Stiles, for the last time. I’m not asking. I will take them from you _by force_ if I have to.”

 

He said it like it was such a big deal, like Stiles should be scared. He even flexed.

 

Stiles just rolls his eyes.

 

“Sure, you can _try_.”

 

And that should have been all the warning Kyle needed. Not that he should have needed it in the first place, if he ever paid attention to anything Stiles said, ever.

 

But Kyle, he was learning, was an idiot, as well as an asshole.

 

So when Kyle lunged forward (sloppy footwork, you almost fell flat on your face there, buddy), it was a piece of cake to turn ever so slightly to the side, and even easier to grasp Kyle’s wrist and use his own momentum to throw him over his hip and down to the cold hard concrete.

 

Kyle made a sound like a crumpled accordion when he hit the ground (maybe he’d alert the nearest First Aid Station, just in case). He was also looking at Stiles with the absolute aggrieved confusion of a Soccer Mom discovering pot in her beloved firstborn’s bookbag. The kind of look a sorority girl might give her chihuahua as it attempted to devour her. Which, _rude_.

 

“Sheriff’s kid, dumbass.”

 

And that was that. As he stepped over Kyle and headed back towards the exits he felt light. Free. He might even whistle.

 

Breakup: Complete.

 

Achievement Unlocked: Singledom.

 

New Quest: Attempt to Win Over Scarily Pretty But Adorably Shy Man Of His Dreams. Which might or might not lead to Making Out.

 

And maybe he’d watch football too. Because, why not? He was feeling crazy.

 

So, when the sun hit his face as he finally emerged into the stands, and he checked and, yep, Actual Wet Dream and Laura were still where he’d left them, he was grinning.

 

Thanks, Kyle. Best birthday gift ever.


End file.
